VGStuck
by Stitchpunk-Bloodwolf
Summary: Oneshots combining video games and GamTav ( and other pairings, too). Updates slowly.
1. Chrono Trigger

Hey.

Sooo. I'm just posting a bunch of video game related/inspired oneshots here. I started doing this after I finished that Skyrimstuck thing. Updates will probably be very slow.

Because I get bored in between chapters of Copper Miracles. And because video game crossovers are awesome.

There might be adult content and what not so be cautious and all that. Warnings will be put up before each story. Bl9h bl9h bl9h.

This first one was requested on Tumblr and it's for the game Chrono Trigger.

Play it.

Warnings: None, except fluuuuffff.

* * *

The End of Time. It certainly had a nice ring to it.

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you are currently sitting on the lone stairway at the end of the ominous platform, taking in a much needed break, and thinking about the decision you recently made that could be potentially fatal to you and your friends.

The decision to destroy an entity that's responsible for the annihilation of your world in the far off future.

Lavos.

You have no idea what made you say yes. It could be the sudden surge of bravery that grew from watching the devastating footage play in the dome, added with the will to change it, or it could be the fear of your world reducing to nothing but rubble and ash. It could also be Aradia and Gamzee both giving you almost pleading looks when they asked.

You could never say no to Aradia's puppy-dog like eyes. Your biggest injuries in your entire lifetime were the result of that deceptive look. Add Gamzee's, who's look was equivalent to a kicked kitten, and they might as well have thrown you at Lavos by yourself.

Turing your head to find your said friends, you're met with an image that you would never have believed if it wasn't for the most recent events that transpired in the last few hours (days? You don't know, time's sort of blended together). Aradia's huddled behind your most recent companion, a 'bro-bot' named Dirk from the futuristic post-apocalyptic wasteland, looking at the said robot for anything that might needed repairs, more than likely without Dirk's permission, seeing that he's sort of squirming (as much as a robot can squirm), with Gamzee sitting nearby with that large (amazing) grin of his, asking the young genius about her repairs (with Dirk chiming in) all while laughing at the robots annoyance and Aradia's persistence. The old guide, Dr. Scratch, is asleep against the lone lamppost, just like you found him when you first arrived.

You want to join them, but your negative thoughts are keeping you from doing just that. So, you turned back to the endless abyss, the notions of impending doom racking through your head.

You really wished these thoughts would go away.

A firm hand on your shoulder pulled you from self-loathing and you glance to your side to see who the appendage belonged to. Sure enough, there was Gamzee, claiming the spot next to you, smiling through his painted lips. As soon as he settled himself beside you, you couldn't help but smile back at him, his mirth, despite recent events, still present as ever.

"Hey." The prince greeted, lethargically, but cheerful, per usual.

"Hey, Gamzee." You respond. His smile grows larger as he scoots closer to you and links is arms around yours, sighing in content. If somebody told you days ago that'd you'd be friends with the prince of Guardia, you'd probably laugh and call them crazy, but here he is, looped around your arm and leaning against you like a couple of lovers at the park.

That analogy brought all kinds of weird thoughts rolling through your brain. You don't know if that's good or not.

"Yanno, brother's awfully quiet up over here. Makes a motherfucker worried." Your mind was brought back to the present by Gamzee's quiet musing. You chuckled and shrugged.

"Just… A lot of things, have happened recently, and, it's a lot to take in…" You trailed off, shifting against him slightly. Gamzee hummed in response as he lifts his head to meet with the timeless abyss you've been watching for the past several minutes.

"It is, ain't it?" He finally replied, his grin only outmatched the one painted around it.

You two fell silent after that, the only sounds being the small 'disagreement' from your other friends behind you. The thoughts of doom still lingered in your mind, with no intention of leaving, but Gamzee's calming presence pushed them further back. Sometimes you wonder, though, how Gamzee can stay so calm, so cheerful, despite all that's been happening. He's been back in time, nearly disappeared completely due to paradoxes you could barely understand, denounced his royal lineage, and witnessed the destruction caused by Lavos, yet he's smiling like there's nothing in the world troubling him.

You want to peer into his mind and figure out his attitude, and maybe learn from it a little.

"You're amazing, you know that, Tavbro?"

His voice startled you as you turn to meet his painted grin once more. "What?" You questioned, blushing. "No, I'm not. You're, crazy."

He laughs in response, "Crazy with truth!" After his chuckle fit calms down, the prince pokes you on the cheek, accompanied by a 'Honk!'. "It's motherfuckin' true though."

You rose a brow at his antics, "I haven't, done anything to, warrant, that kind of praise, yet."

"You motherfuckin' saved me. You save my whatever-many-times-great grandma, you up and helped those motherfuckin' people in that dome-place, helped Ro-Bro, and you'll help a lot more motherfuckin' people when we up and beat that Lavos motherfucker," just when you were about to argue that no, you're not that great, he clamped your mouth shut with his free forefinger and thumb, "and don't start with that self-loathing noise. Ara-sis says you do that a lot. You're a fucking miracle." He releases your mouth, and you're rendered speechless. Not that it's a hard task, but still.

"Um…" Was you're only intelligible response. Smooth.

Gamzee only chuckled again, before leaning in to place a small kiss to your cheek.

A.

Kiss.

Granted, it wasn't your lips, but it was close enough to cease all motor functions and you're sitting there like a dummy trying to comprehend what just happened, blushing like crazy. Meanwhile, Gamzee chuckles again as he lifts himself off the stairs. He winks at you. "Ara-sis wants to motherfuckin' see you, by the way. Something about a plan or some shit." Oh, now he tells you.

When you finally regain the use of your body, Gamzee is long gone, back with your other friends, and you're left with several burning questions and not enough answers. But you laugh. Laugh, because he's right. Self-loathing is pointless, especially at a time like this. A time when skill and valor are needed. You're not fully convinced, however, those dreadful thoughts still prod at the back of your skull, but they don't bother you so much now.

With Gamzee by you're side, along with your friends, you have all the time in the world to convince yourself.


	2. The Walking Dead

This one isn't really a real VG crossover, but it's heavily inspired by the last episode of The Walking Dead video game. Shit changes you bro.

Warnings: Sadstuck. Very much so.

* * *

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you are about to kill your best friend.

It's something you'd thought you would never have to do. But here you are, in a small field in the forest far away from the camp, a pistol shaking violently in your hand, and Gamzee, whose looking more worst every minute he's still breathing, propped up against a log, breathing harshly like he's just smoked a full pack of cigs. Fate likes to fuck with you like that.

Your eyes trail across his weakened figure to the hideous bite on his arm, tears threatening to spill over. He's like this because of you. Because your reflexes are shit and he had to come and save you. Those _things_ latched onto his arm like a dog to a bone. Gamzee killed it; crushed it's skull with his juggling pins. But his only spoils was an affliction that will kill him and make him one of _them_.

He does't blame you. He never does. And never will. Even when dying against a dead tree. You do, however, blame yourself. Fuck, Karkat blames you. Kurloz blames you. Everyone blames you. You could still hear Vriska's degrading laughter ring in your head about how much of a screw-up you are.

It was only natural that you'd be the one putting the bullet in his brain. Karkat couldn't do it (he won't go through with it and it would end badly for both of them), Kurloz can't do it (family should never kill family, even if they've never got along), and everyone else as either too uncaring or overzealous about the deed. So it was up to someone who actually cared and could do it right.

Why the fuck did they think you could do it?

You think that maybe they actually sent you so that if you don't do it, Gamzee turns and kills you too. You don't blame them.

You're hand is shaking worse and tears are starting to fall.

You'd wish this was all just a trick. Like he'd would just jump back up, shout "Gotcha!", and wipe that ridiculously realistic looking bite-mark from his arm (he's always said he wanted to be a makeup artist). But no. This is real. This is real and denial is killing you like that bite mark's killing him. And there's nothing you can do, except end it for him.

You tried to steady your breathing, hopefully gain a little courage, but it's no use. Gamzee's still panting from exhaustion below you. He's turning his gaze to you, his once vibrant eyes now clouded and dull.

You wish you had a DeLorean, like in that movie. You wish you could rev it up to 88, taking a few of these dead fuckers with you, go back, find out who's doing all of this, and stop them before it ever happens. Then you can go back and find Gamzee chilling on your couch back home, a slice of pie in one hand and your pokeball shaped bong in the other.

_If wishes were poppies we'd all be dreaming now._

"Tav…" His voice is weak, with small hints of desperation and fear. You hate it so much. "Please…"

Your voice caught in your throat, and sobs started wreaking through your small frame. You raised an arm to catch your tears. Your knees buckle and you fall to the ground. You don't waste time slowly crawling over to him, wrapping your arms around his thin frame, bury your face in his neck and cry. "Don-" He weakly tries to protest, but you won't let him.

You don't care if he turns then and there, you just want to hold him one last time.

Gamzee weakly reciprocates, slowly snaking an arm around your waist, and you think he's crying too? He whispers small soothing words in your ear and you calm down a little. He end's with an "I love you" that nearly falls on deaf ears. Your heart makes a full stop and tears slowly trail down your cheeks as you turn your head to him. His breathing is hard as he adds, "I… mean it, brother… I... love you." He looks like he wants to add more, but exhaustion is stopping him from doing so and he looks at you, with that pleading gaze.

"Please…" He's cracking, alongside your heart, "Don't let me…" _Don't let me turn into one of them._

You could only nod, before cupping Gamzee's face in your hand and placing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. Letting what few tears remain fall, you stand, shakily, before taking the gun and pacing a few feet away from him. You aim. The weapon is shaky in your hands still, but from your distance, you can't miss.

"G…Gamzee…" You take a deep breath as he looks up at you, his deep breathing becoming the only this you can hear, besides the pistol trembling in your hands.

"I… I love, you too."

You swear you saw his eyes light up behind those dull clouds.

You could at least let him go with some happiness in his heart.

Even if you don't believe it yourself.


	3. Bully

Yo, here's another one. The game's Bully, a Rockstar (GTA, Red Dead Redemption)... I guess you could call it sleeper hit, semi-requested by my matespirit.

Basically the title says it all.

You can get the game on Steam, PSN, and I assume XBL. If you lack the funds, Youtube star Pewdiepie is currently playing it if you want to see it. It's actually a really fun game.

Warnings: Minor violence and bullying. Also drug references. And cursing, but what do you expect of Gamzee. I also got lazy at the end.

* * *

You veer your head left and right, being cautious of any Prefects rooming around the school, before digging in your left pocket for your lighter, the Mary Jane dangling from your lips already rolled and secured tightly in the cigarette paper. Bringing the lighter to the tip of the blunt, you flicked the pad of your calloused thumb across the bic, igniting the flame. As the small ember charred the tip of the roll, you inhaled, indulging as the smoke courses through your lungs. You held your breath, waiting as the drug takes effect in your body, taking you to a sanctuary in your mind before it releases you back to the hell on earth you've been in the past year.

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you're a student at Bullworth Academy. And you hate it here.

About a year ago, you and your brother, Kurloz, arrived here with nothing but five-hundred dollars, the cloths on your back, and a message from your father ("Keep your asses in line. If you're in jail, I'm not fucking bailing you out"). Both you and Kurlz' were apprehensive about this sudden change of direction, but you both managed to blend in nicely.

And by 'blend in nicely', you mean constantly avoid the bullies that fuck with you and your brother. Because who wouldn't mess with a gangly stoner wearing face paint and his mute twin brother with tattooed stitches across his lips? Kurlz' could get around them alright, he's quite, comes with being a mute you guess. You however, have a to use force to get the asses to back off. It worked miracles when the so called leader of the Jocks ran away with a black eye and several cuts and bruises to nurse.

Motherfucking meatheads. You're no smarter, but at least you know how to fight.

The last of the hit is slowly burning away, signaling you to get your shit together and possibly get to class. Or go to the dorms, you don't feel like dealing with school shit. Sucking in what's left, you toss the remnants in the nearest bin, slowly walking away from your normal hideaway. A few kids skipping class glanced your way, judging, but you don't care. You hardly care nowadays.

Carefully avoiding any Prefects, you come around from the side of the large school to the large courtyard in the front. It's teeming with kids who are skipping, like you, and Prefects, trying to pull them to class. You shrug. If you get caught, you can just run to the dorms. You're faster than these lug weights, and for some reason they don't go in the dorms.

Plotting a route in your mind around the Prefects, you set off toward the dorms, hopefully get in a little shut eye before the next bell. If not, oh well. Halfway to the safe haven known as the boy's dormitories, you catch movement in the corner of your eyes, despite your foggy mind, and you're prepared to make a break for it, until you saw the source. A new kid, with big bronze doe-like eyes and chocolate hair styled to a Mohawk, talking to the assistant principle. You blinked.

The kid's also in a wheelchair. You don't know why, but that fact lingered in your mind stronger than your usual haze.

The assistant principle ended her speech with a wave of her hand and pointed to the dorms, instructing him to change into uniform. As the woman walked away (you jumped behind a wall out of sight to avoid her), the boy looks almost crestfallen as he takes in a shaky deep breath and rolls his up the side ramp and into the dorm.

Your blood pusher pulled it's strings for the boy. You try not to get too attached, however; He won't last a week here.

Nearly two weeks later, and the wheelchair boy is still here, much to your surprise.

You learned that his name is Tavros Nitram. You have him in biology and art. He holds his head down like he's guilty of a crime. He has more visible bruises on his face, arms and neck than you did on your own first two weeks. You bet he has others he won't show. Yet he's still here. Rolling his way down the halls quickly and quietly, hoping not to be seen.

You've concluded that's he's stubborn. Like a bull.

Messiahs, that was a bad joke, even for you.

You want to be friends with Tavros. You wanted to be lab partners with him in bio, but your brother dragged you off to be his. When you looked over to him, he was by himself, gagging like the rest of the class over the smell. You want to stop the bullies, too. The Preps, Jocks and Greasers- they all seem to have a grudge over the new kid for just existing. Best friend Karkat pulls you away from the fray, however, saying that "it's not fucking worth it".

Today, you got your chance. You decided to skip class, not wanting to deal with droning teachers pretending to care about the student population, to smoke a blunt before class. Halfway through your cloudy paradise, you heard little whimpers and slight grunts of pain. You peek out of your hiding place to confirm what you has initially feared: the new kid receiving poundings from the bullies. Greasers, to be exact, lead by one narcissistic Cronus Ampora.

The group of leather clad bullies taunted the handicapped boy, with the side of a few jeers and punches. Cronus kept himself away from the group, not wanting to get his hands dirty (fucking hypocrite), but he gave out instructions to the rest of the crowd to carry out the deed. One of the boys goes to the side and pushes the boy out of his chair, making Tavros cry out hit the pavement with a hard thud. You flinched from your hiding place.

It didn't take you too long to step in. Moving away from your hiding place, the lighted drug ignored in your fingers, cautiously approaching the hostile students. Creeping up behind the greased up asshole Cronus, you tugged his collar backward until his ear was level with his mouth.

"Stop this shit." You hissed. The greaser jerks forward out of your grip and twists to face you, already red with anger.

"The fuck you want, Juggalo?" Cronus spit, the candy cigarette in his mouth nearly falling out. The goons behind him diverted their attention away from the fallen boy and began pooling behind their leader, echoing him.

You gritted your teeth. Right now you have very little patience with these grease monkeys. Even with half the weed in your system, it's still hard not to punch the living shit out of them. You decided to spare the victimized boy behind them a glance. He's huddled in pain on the ground, the pain from all the injuries accumulated the past two weeks catching up to him in full speed. You snarled, but you decided not to resort to violence, for the boy's sake.

You yank the grease brain by the collar back toward you, growling out your next words. "Back the motherfuck off."

"Or what?" He shot, the candy falling from his mouth. Messiahs, that speech impediment of his makes you want to fuck his shit up to next year. But you restrain yourself.

"Or your little motherfuckin' posse here will know about that little motherfuckin' nerd you up and got your like on." You pull him closer, sneering out your next words right by his ear, "Yanno, the guy in the motherfuckin' bright red."

You could swear you heard the greaser's eyes turn as wide as saucers as he shoves you away again, this time his face red with embarrassment first, then back at anger. He scoffed, waving his crew away from the boy. They follow, hesitantly, after a moment of confusion. Cronus points at you and walks off to the garages, before giving you the familiar 'you're on my shit list' look. Like half the school doesn't have your name underlined and the damn list laminated.

Giving them a look of your own, you patter your way to Tavros, who seems to realize that the fuckers aren't bothering him anymore. The boy peeks up at you, and fuck those bronze eyes look bigger up close, like in those weird cartoons Kurlz' girlfriend watches sometimes. But they held fear, something you're too used to. It doesn't suit him.

"P-please… Don't, hurt m-me." He pleaded. You could only laugh, and by the way he cringes backwards, that was the wrong move.

"Motherfucker." He flinches, obviously not too thrilled with your choice of words. "I just up and helped ya from those motherfuckers. Last thing I wanna do is hurt a adorable motherfucker like yourself." Whoops. Didn't mean to blurt out the 'adorable' part, but oh well. It's out there. Nothing can be done about that.

The boy shivers, possibly flustered thanks to you, and you go to bring his chair to him. Tavros tries to protest when you offered to help him up, but you won't have any of that. Careful of his wounds, you lift him from the ground, and placed him securely in his seat, the boy yelping in protest. When he got his bearings in order he turned to you, still apprehensive, but grateful nonetheless.

"T-thank you…" He trails of, like talking is a crime for him.

"No problem, bro." You sport him a messy paint smeared grin, which he shakily returns. The boy barely gets away before you take the handles of his chair and push him to the general direction of the dorms.

"W-where are, you taking, me…!" He barks when you're halfway in the courtyard.

You chuckle, the sound almost grinding out your throat, "The motherfuckin' dorms, bro. You ain't in motherfuckin' shape to go back to class, so I'm up and helping a brother."

Tavros shifts in his seat. The cutest thing. "Promise?"

"Motherfuckin' Scouts Honor."

The new kid laughs, and you figured out very quickly that you like it. "You, don't seem like, Boy Scout material."

You laugh along side him, pushing him up the ramps to the dormitories. "You'd be motherfuckin' surprised."

You tell him a lot of things when you both reached your dorm room, from your brother to your deadbeat dad to your pot addiction. And he tells you several things as well, his own brother in a failing relationship at another school, his ex-girlfriend that nearly killed him, his accident that made him lose his legs. It wasn't long after that you two became close friends, nearly inseparable. Every night, you would sit in either yours or his room and just talk until one of you falls asleep. You've even reduced your pot intake for the motherfucker. The bullies were still a problem (it's Bullworth, they're always a problem), but it's nothing a few dirty secrets and wayward fists (without Tavros' consent, but diplomacy as never a strong point with you) couldn't handle. Almost a month later, the asses finally stopped and took the fucking hint, and Tavros was free from the tyranny at long last.

In that month, you asked him out to the carnival in town.

He calls you a dork, kisses you on the cheek and says yes.


	4. Bully pt 2

Sup. Here's some more of these.

This is a sequel to the last Bully one. I whipped this up pretty quick. *shrug

No warnings except cussing. Because Gamzee.

* * *

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you are nervous as fuck.

You are currently at the gates of the newly re-opened caravel, shifting from foot to foot. If this were any other circumstance, you would be excited, jovial even. The carnival had always been a haven for you since you came to this dreaded Bullworth, immersing yourself in all the lights and sounds the magical place had to offer, before grudgingly making the trek back to the hell-hole you call home.

You figured it would be the perfect first date location with Tavros.

Which is why you are a fidgeting mess, to put it lightly. Nearly on the brink of pulling out your hair, you tugged on the collar of your dark purple cardigan, airing out the heat that's fuming underneath the neat clothes. You honestly don't care much about appearance, you just throw on your paint, a dress shirt and slacks and go about your way, but you want to make an effort for him, for your first date, so you left out the face paint and dressed up, prompting for a freshly pressed vest and slacks and neatly combed hair, courtesy of Karbro. Good friend, best friend.

At times like this you would smoke, but you refrain from that also, promising yourself that you'd cut back, for him. You wonder if Tavros knows what he's doing to you, physically and emotionally.

You were about to break your promise, reaching in your pocket for the extra lighter you keep for emergencies, before you heard your name being called in the distance.

"Gamzee!"

You looked up from the grass, to see your date, wide eyed and smiling, rolling up toward you next to the gates. He dressed up too; a wrinkle-free brown vest, a dress shirt with the sleeved neatly rolled up to his elbows and his mohawk gelled back. He placed his hands on his lap, nervously wringing them and you had to pinch your thighs to keep from staring.

He chuckled, eying you up and down. "You know, I wouldn't have recognized you, if it wasn't for those ridiculous, purple shoes."

You laugh, a little bit of your tension drowning away, "Hey, now, bro, dun be knockin' the Converse." You eye him up and down, then add, "I wouldn't have up and recognized you, Tavbro, if it ain't for the mo- hair." You quickily cut off the oncoming curse, also promising not to cuss in front of him. You want to be a complete gentleman for your Tavbro. "Then again," you drawled out, not being aboe to stop yourself. Fuck you must be very nervous. "There ain't that many… brothers here that are as cute as my Tavbro." You finished with a wink and Messiahs you are corny.

Tavros flushed a deep red, dusting his tan cheeks and ou decided that that is too fucking cute not to hug. So you do, kneeling down to his level (careful of your clean pants) and embrace the boy you cared about since the day you met him. He tensed up at first, before softening, throwing his arms around you and squeezing close.

Tavros pulled away first, bumming you out a little, but his large smile makes it better. He reels back a little before nodding at the gates, "Shall we, um…" The boy stammers and he's just as nervous as you are. You find that cute.

You nod, laughing lightly before making your way behind him, taking your place on the handles of the chair. Tavros shifts, not used to anyone buy him taking control of his chair. "Gamzee..? I can- I mean, you don't have to-"

You chuckle, like the very idea is stupid and preposterous, "I know bro. I want to. Gotta up and be a gentleman for my beau, yanno?" From behind him, you could see Tavros' ears turn red, and you give yourself a satisfied grin, walking him to the iron barrier between them and their date.

It turns out that the carnival is more fun when there's another person with you. The lights and sounds of your personal haven lit up ten times brighter with Tavros accompanying you. The night dragged on with you two fucking around with the games, where you learned that he had impeccable aim at the stalls, and you showed him your freakish strength with the bell, earning the both of you a large sum of tickets for prizes. You both couldn't go on the rides due to his disability, but you could care less. Can't get him a cute prize riding a car anyhow. From the corner of your eye, you could see the Preps eye you both down, giving you both quiet judgmental stares.

Like they have any right to, the inbred motherfuckers. You restrain from saying something, however, when you felt Tavros' hand on your arm, and you realize that you're here for him. Not asshats like them. You kiss him on the forehead and continue forth with your date.

As time reaches to the point of curfew for the both of you, you both go to the prize tent. There wasn't much there that wasn't typical carnival-ly stuff you'd normally get (except that Vespa. You eyed that one, confused for a few moments). You ended up giving him a white stuff bull with fairy wings. He hugged it tightly, naming it Tinkerbull. You laugh at the choice name. He gives you a purple stripped hat fitted with goggles, apologizing if it's not good enough. You popped on that motherfucker, beaming at him with hugs and sweet praises.

Eventually the evening had to come to a close, with you situated across Tavros' lap, while he steered you both back to the dorms, sharing the last bits of cotton candy and funnel cake both of you indulged on all night. Evidently the dreadful school came to view and you huddled closer to your Tavbro, putting your head on his shoulder, inhaling his strong cologne. He rolled the rest of the way cautiously, avoiding the Prefects out catching kids outside their curfew. Quietly, you both made it inside, laughing at the fact that they can't spot a wheelchair outside on their bedtime.

He wheels you to your room, nudging you softly with his shoulder. You raise your head to meet his, taking in the soft red blush tingeing his cheeks. You were about to say something, before he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You were momentarily stunned; he's kissing you and he feels good and he's normally not this bold and oh, you were supposed to kiss back, so you do that, mirroring his lips against his and you love how he tastes like funnel cake and the peanut butter cookies he had a while ago. Tavros pulls away mush too soon for your liking, but he make it up with a kiss to your nose. He nudged you off his lap and you slowly remove yourself, slightly protesting. You like to be on his lap. You tell him this and he flushes. You chuckled and sweetly kiss his cheek, telling him good night and that you'll see him tomorrow. He sloly rolls away after tell you his farewell.

When you walk in your room, you smile and plop down across your bed, still fully clothed, going over the night's events in your head. You just had the perfect date with the boy you fell head over heels with. You couldn't wait to see him again tomorrow, and possibly go on more dates with him.

Maybe Bullworth Academy won't be so bad anymore.


	5. Pokemon

Pokemon. Because all gamingstucks need one. Unova because Ferris Wheel.

No warnings besides language.

* * *

Tavros turns harshly in the warm starchy sheets, disturbing the curled up Tepig sleeping on his chest. The fire pokemon huffs, annoyed with the disturbance, before returning to sleep. Next to the boy, Gamzee snores loud enough to wake a Snorlax, with his Oshawott coiled up in his wild mass of hair, cooing quietly in his sleep. The younger trainer shimmies in the sheets before weakly cracking an eye at the clock on the far side of the Pokemon Center room. 6:19. Far too early.

Outside, Castelia City still surges with activity, even in these earliest of hours. The city is not known for being quiet, no matter the time. Growing up in the small town of Nuvema, Tavros and Gamzee both were overwhelmed with it's grandeur alone, not nowhere used to the sights and sounds the big city flaunts. The future breeder had to hold on to his taller companions hand to maneuver through the crowds and it took them forever to find the Gym for Gamzee. If he had to be honest with himself, Tavros doesn't like it. Not at the moment, at least.

Tavros manages to get in another hour of sleep, until a loud obnoxious snort followed my a incomprehensible mumble from the older trainer next to him nearly jerked him out of his skin. The younger teen stifles down the urge to smother Gamzee with a pillow. Deciding that he won't be going back to sleep anytime soon, he reluctantly rises from the comforts of the cozy bed to a sitting position, inadvertently bothering his Tepig once more.

"Sorry," Tavros mumbles, scratching the pokemon on his neck, just the way he likes it. The young trainer chuckles as the fire pig makes a noise that crosses between a snort and a coo, then nests himself back at Tavros' side, attempting sleep one more time. Tavros rubs the sleep out of his eyes, trying his best to resist the beds siren call.

Tavros isn't a morning person. Not one bit. If he had to wake up before 10 am, he would throw around expletives that Gamzee himself would be blushing at, before going back to sleep. Today, the loud city, along side his snoring partner, made the latter impossible. Grumbling, he gently picked up his Tempig and placed him next to Gamzee's side, who thankfully snuggled up to him unperturbed, while the younger trainer departs for the rare luxury of a warm shower, ignoring the questioning stare of his Roggenrola on the foot of the bed.

Several minutes later, finishing the shower with a content sigh, Tavros emerges from the bathroom, finding everything exactly where they were when he left, down to the rock pokemon's odd gaze, and Gamzee's Scraggy haphazardly strewn across an arm of a chair on the far side of the room. Treading over to his bag, petting the Roggenrola on his way, he pulls out a fresh pair of boxers and jeans, not really having the energy to dress up all the way yet.

Now for the hard part.

Gamzee, face bare of any greasepaint Tavros noticed (he's going to have to convince him to leave off the face paint just for tomorrow), is spread across the shared bed with little care in the world. His Oshawott is still sleeping in his jet black hair as lethargically as he is. The sheets piled on one leg (Tavros has a tendency to steal sheets at night, and Gamzee doesn't really mind), and his night shirt is bunched up to his chest. Tavros blinked as he eyed the happy trail disappearing under his box-

Nope. Not now Tavros.

A part of him wants Gamzee to keep sleeping- he did an amazing job battling at the Gym yesterday. He surly deserved a few hours in. But the day required more traveling. Through a sandstorm kind. To reach Nimbasa City, where Gamzee wants to ride the Ferris Wheel.

"Gamz," Tavros weakly shakes him. The older trainer shifts and mumbles out something incoherent, but did not wake.

"Gamzee," he tried again, stirring him again with a little more force. His Oshawott perked up from the forest of Gamzee's hair, peeved, and let out an irritated huff. The older trainer, however, didn't budge from his doze.

After a few more minutes of unsuccessful attempts, also which led to the frustration of every pokemon in the room (he'll buy them all treats when they leave), Tavros was on the verge of just tackling him to the ground. But he doubts _that _would even wake him. Pokemon could revolt against mankind, and Gamzee would sleep through it (his brother once told him that when they were younger- Gamzee cried for hours).

So he goes for less conventional means.

"Tep," Tavros calls, scratching the drowsy pokemon on his neck. He silently hopes there won't be any permanent damage.

* * *

"You play dirty, motherfucker. You know that?"

"Gamz, there's children, around."

Gamzee rubs his burnt side, growling irritation at the younger trainer, as Tavros walks over to the Pokemon Center counter, returning the room key to Nurse Feferi. After Gamzee started a small chat with the Nurse (one of the things on Gamzee's adventure to-do list; Talk to every Nurse Fef they come across), the duo finally made their way out into the streets, clutching their pokemon to their chests, and each others hands, maneuvering past the busy streets to the dividing house between the city and Route 4.

"I'm still motherfucking mad, Tavbro." Gamzee murmurs, glaring at the younger trainer before moving to the chairs on the far side of the room, his Oshawott climbing over to his shoulder.

"No, you're not." Tavros snorts back, sitting next to him, his own Tepig moving to the spare chair next to them. As Gamzee grumbles, the mohawked trainer pulls out a set of goggles, handing the purple one to his partner. "Put, these on. Neither of us, are too fond of, sand, or other stuff, getting in our eyes."

Gamzee does so and with a loud chuckle, snaps the band in place. He grins broadly, forgotten about this morning (presently, at any rate), swerving his head left in right with the new headgear, before looking his way over to his Tavbro. "Now these are some mighty fine optics we all up and got our motherfuckin' seein' on with." His Oshawott paws at the frame and Tavros giggles as his companion makes silly faces with the new head gear. "Now, I ain't all ungrateful and shit, but how'd you up and nab these miracle see-throughs?" The older trainer inquires, petting the water pokemon and doing his best questionable glare at Tavros.

It fails and the younger one laughs, placing his own goggles on his head, setting them place and fixing his Mohawk under the strap. "Rufioh's boyfriend, sent them to us. I told Ruf that we'd, go through the sandstorm today and he, told Horuss, I guess. Sent these through his Sigilyph, yesterday." He informs, before taking out his Tepigs pokeball. "Gamz, put your, Oshawott in his ball." He requests, calling back his fire pokemon next to him.

Gamzee nods, before mumbling a 'sorry, bro' and calls back his water type. Normally, he'd argue, but he can see the logic behind Tavros' directive, so he complies. With a quirk of his lips, he sets the ball in place on his belt before his darkened sights returned to his partner, "I motherfuckin' hope that Hor-bro isn't tryin' to up and sack in both Nitrams." The clown jokes lightheartedly.

Feeling that they can be as ready as they can be, Tavros rises from his seat with a small laugh toward the older trainer, "If he is, I'll just have to remind him, of who's already gotten me 'sacked', so to speak." Tavros winks in his direction and nods over to the doorway leading to the dusty Route 4.

"C'mon. You got a Ferris Wheel, to ride."

* * *

In the span of 2 hours, most of which involved running around in circles, taking detours around the construction site, arduous battles with other trainers, and a new pokemon for Gamzee ("Look at this motherfuckin' Darumaka, Tavbro! All round and cuddly and shit… Maybe he wants to all up and join us? Scrags and Oshi get a bit motherfuckin' lonely. 'Sides, fire's good! 'Minds me of my Tavbro."), Tavros finally spots the colorful amusement park lights of Nimbasa dotting the distance past the obscuring sandstorm. Tugging on Gamzee's hand grasping at his, the future breeder took off toward the brilliant city, nearly catching the eye of several trainers along the way.

Reaching the border house standing in between them and the city, the duo took one long deep breath and shook themselves of all the dirt and dust accumulated from the route. Tavros took off the goggles before shaking out the dust in his brown Mohawk. Happy that the optics are no longer obstructing his vision, he looks over to his companion, and chortles dryly. "Never again."

Gamzee shrugs, taking his own pair off and ranking a hand through his sand covered mess of hair. "NOPE," the older trainer agreed wholeheartedly, chuckling, maybe a little louder than he intended. "I got motherfuckin' sand in places that I didn't think was up and possible…" The normally clownish trainer shifted uncomfortably on the spot, trying to dislodge the grain hiding all over.

Tavros grins and walks up to the entrance of the city, signaling Gamzee to follow. With a few unpleasant squirms, the older teen complies, following the future breeder. Soon, the border was behind them and the magnificent city of Nimbasa came into full view. They already were greeted by the sights and sounds of the jovial city before them. Even in the daylight, the city shined.

Tavros decides that he likes this city better then Castelia. And by the way Gamzee's eyes shine brighter then the entire city, with a grin for match, he agrees enthusiastically.

"Gamz, I think we should, go to the Center first, so we can check in for the night," the thoughtful breeder spoke up out of the marvel, walking the flight of stairs separating them from the rest of the city. His partner doesn't seem to be listening, only laughing and taking in the sights around him in mirth. "Then, the Gym, I think, and-"

"NOPE!" A loud voice announces for the second time today as a hand roughly pulls Tavros away from his trail of thought and towed alongside his lanky friend, who looked back at him with a buoyant smirk. "All that's fine and motherfuckin' dandy, but we are gettin' our ride on with the motherfuckin' Ferris Wheel!" Gamzee starts tugging him toward the bridge to the far right as Tavros weakly protests. He gives up when they crossed the bridge; Gamzee is just as stubborn as the other when he wants to be.

The younger breeder lightly jogs to keep up with his partners brisk pace, who's maneuvering past the festive crowds like they were still in Castelia, past all the cheerful clowns that would normally make the older teen halt on the spot, past the neon blue and purple Gym, to the tall, rotating Ferris Wheel, the pride of Nimbasa. Just looking at it makes Tavros' stomach drop. But he trusts Gamzee. Most of the time.

Gamzee springs to line like nobody's business, with Tavros being dragged not too far behind. After a few minutes of awkward shuffling, with the taller trainers arm across the breeder's shoulders and Gamzee's uncontrollable glee, the usher waves the duo in the pokeball shaped cart, sitting across from one another, and they're off, along with Tavros' nerves.

The cart slowly rises from the ground and Gamzee couldn't keep his eyes away from the window, admiring the slowly ascending view. Tavros clutched at the trainers hand like a life line and by the way his partner is squeezing back, brushing his calloused thumb over the younger one's knuckles, he wasn't going to let go anytime soon, and that was a small comfort to the young breeder.

"Hey, Tavbro."

Gamzee's soft voice broke Tavros out of his state of mind as he looks up briefly from their conjoined hands. He's met with Gamzee's soft gaze, and his even softer lips pressing against Tavros'. The kiss is short, sweet, and tastes like dirt, but held all the love and affection only Gamzee could give and it wasn't long until the breeder melts with him, mirroring the elders lips with his own, taking in every bit of warmth and tenderness from his_ partner._

The kiss ended too soon, and the younger's left breathless, with Gamzee leaving one more small peck at the corner of Tavros' mouth. Leaning back, the older trainer smiled brightly, holding the other teen's hands close, a small red tint dusting his cheeks in great contrast to his pale skin. Tavros probably doesn't look any better.

"Tav…" Gamzee started, breathy deeply. "When… I up and walk down Victory Road, will… you walk with this motherfucker?"

Tavros blinked, shocked his partner would even ask such a thing. "Of course, Gamz." It nearly appalls him to think otherwise.

"And the League?" He asks hopefully, caressing your hands once more.

"I'll be, the loudest one cheering, for you." The mohawked teen replies with an affectionate grin. The wheel nearly reaches over the turning point before Gamzee speaks again, his voice borderline hopeful.

"Promise?"

Tavros chuckles softly, enfolding his hand tightly in reassurance. "Think of it like in one of Karkats, romcoms." The trainer laughs slightly, making the breeder smile to the point his cheeks hurt and continue, "A new champion's, crowned, and the girl runs to the arms, of her hero, confessing her undying love, and such." Tavros informs with an awkward chuckle, shrugging almost comically. "Just add a Samurott, riding into the sunset, instead of a Charizard."

Gamzee laughs again, louder, the booming sound echoing off the small confines of the cart. "I thought we motherfucking got past the 'confess their undying love' part already?"

"Confess, get in his pants, same thing." Tavros shrugs again, laughing along side his partner.

"That something I get to up and look forward to?" He asks with a coy smirk and a slight wink.

"Defiantly."

They seal the deal with a kiss, and a playful pinch to the trainers burnt side.


	6. Borderlands 2

Borderlands 2. Side note that Gamzee is like a bastardization of Brink, except he bashes skulls in with clubs rather than fists, and Tav is, well, the male Mechromancer. (*cough myfavoriteclass)

I like this one. That is all.

Warnings: Smut. And the general language, but it's the smut you care about. Oh, and violence.

* * *

Vault Hunting is serious business.

"One bandit, two bandit, three bandit, four…" Gamzee chants in a sing-song voice, pulling the trigger of his sniper rifle repeatedly. As the 'Subjugglator' (a title he's given himself the minute you both hit Pandora, you have no idea what it is or what it means, but you go with it) reloads another magazine in his purple sniper, you took place on your knees in front of him, against the metal guard rail, palming the front of his jeans slowly. You grinned as he released a husky growl, almost forming your name, missing a shot at the assholes gathering below.

"Gamz," you coo, continuing to toy with him as you pull down his zipper and free his half-hard member, keeping your normal hand on his manhood, and your robotic, prosthetic arm to his waist. "Remember; ten, headshots." Ten headshots before Gamzee blows his load. If he wins, he gets the full job pay, if not you get it. You don't remember how the bet came to be (you want to blame the rakk ale), but it was too good not to go through with. Licking a antagonizing slow stripe from base to tip, Gamzee groaned, the rifle in his arms shaking like a leaf. Too easy.

He barely made it to seven before Gamzee came down your throat. You're just that good. You sent out Tinkerbull to pulverize the rest and call the job done.

The ride back to the nearest Fast Travel Station is uneventful, so far, oddly enough. Gamzee fell asleep in the back of the Bandit Technical nearly fifteen minutes ago, and you're trying to drive carefully, making sure not to wake your partner. At least until you get to the Happy Pig Motel.

Oops. Ran over a skag. Oh well, ugly thing deserved it. Gamzee shifted, mumbling something about pie, before falling back to unconsciousness, snoring. You giggled.

You made it to the Motel in record time, and you carelessly jumped out of the drivers seat. You slightly rub your sore prosthetic legs, stopping a moment to pull out your incinerated pistol and shoot the stray psycho chasing after you with blind, insane fury. The bandit staggers, and falls ungraciously to the ground, dead. Normally, you'd send out Tinkerbull for the small stuff, to save ammo and such, but right now you're feeling particularly lazy. Scratching the light stubble across your chin, you make your way to the back of the car. Gamzee's curled himself near the back of the trunk, snoring like he was in a comfy bed instead of a hard seat in a vehicle. A stroke of confidence assails you. You did this to him with one blowjob. You really are good.

"Gamzee," you call out, nonchalantly jumping over the guardrail. He moves slightly but doesn't budge. "Babe," you made your way to your partner, shaking him. He jolted to wakefulness, letting out a few choice expletives that held no true malice before rubbing his eyes with the back of his greased up palm. "Sorry, Gamz," you tuck an arm under his shoulders and lift him. A man who is nothing but sticks should not be this heavy. You blame his guns and clubs. "When we, get back to, Sanctuary, we'll rent a room at, Roxxxi's and you can sleep there."

He grumbles some more unflattering curses under his breath before straightening up, and jumping alongside you from the truck bed. Walking up to the Fast Travel Station, Gamzee leans against you groggily and you press the holographic menu, selecting your current home from the list, giving Gamzee a quick peck on his cheek before confirming. Then blue surrounds you.

As the sky-colored lights blur and fade from sight (you will never get used to that), you arrive at the piss-hole capital of Pandora, Sanctuary. The floating city is home to ruffians, thieves, drunks and wannabe bandits. You hate it here, but it's the only place that won't shoot you on arrival without reason. Gamzee materializes next to you in a haze of digital blue lights. You wait for him to fully form before heading to the bounty board, collecting your rightfully earned money. You refrain from gloating in his face though; he looks like an ugly love child between drowsiness and moping.

You two hit Roxxxi's in record time, with the bar's proprietor, Roxi, giving you both a sweet, welcoming grin. Followed by a drunken wink. You shoot her a nervous smile back and Gamzee waves at her like a child with a cheeky smile. You ask her for the key to one of the back room, and slip her the cost. She hands you the key card with another drunkenly sweet smirk. You stumble out a thank you before dragging Gamzee with you to the back rooms where your quarters lie, dust trails following in your wake.

"Haev fin, boys!" She calls in her inebriated state. "Fun!"

The room came to view, and you slide the in the card, taking in the sight of the recognizable room in front of you. It was a simple set up; table, drawers, a small twin in the corner. It reeks of booze and sex; a scent you both are familiar with, to the point where it feels like home to you both. Growing up on the other shit stain of the universe, Promethea, it's something you're almost glad about. Even the Vault Hunter HQ or whatever doesn't compare. You hold the door for your lovely Subjugglator, giving him a curt bow. "After you."

Gamzee laughs, too tired to form a coherent response and pats you on the ass, winking and kissing you on the nose before making a bee line toward the cot at the end of the room and collapsing on top of it. You snigger as you make you way to the table, arranging your guns and counting your money from today's job.

$382. Not including the hundred you looted. At least you know how much your lives are worth. Probably not even that. You absentmindedly started to massage your sore thighs, being careful not to press to hard at the sensitive skin that meets metal. Maybe one of these days you can get stabilizers for your legs so-

"Taaaaav," you rose from your thoughts momentarily to see Gamzee perched on his elbows, staring at you through his messy bangs. He chuckles, low and husky, and you just noticed he's topless and when did that happen. "You mumblin' all crazy like, again." Oh.

"Um," elegant Tavros. "Thanks, Gam." You smile at him with a nervous snort and he pats the sadly empty spot next to him, beaming back at you with that small mischievous glint in his dangerous indigo eyes. No matter ho many times you try, you can't find it in you to resist that glint, let alone him. You rise from the flimsy table and journeyed the few steps to the dirty bed (you don't even want to know what these stains are), taking a seat in that lonely spot next to him. You rack your normal hand through his grease, blood, and dirt matted hair, careful of the knots that you catch.

Gamzee mewled under you, grabbing the wrist of your prosthetic, and kissing the palm all over, twining his warm fingers with your cold ones. You count it as a blessing that you can even feel it. "Tavbro," he continues to play with your fingers, kissing the smooth plates of each finger. He always blames himself for this. He blames every little flaw on your body on himself, from your arm, to your legs, to the electrical burns on your good arm, to the small barely visible scar under your left eye. Even though none of it was his fault. He was just raised to hold in shame. "D'ya ever motherfuckin' think 'bout those old days?"

You frown. Those days. Those days when you used to play with Gamzee in the dirty streets of Promethea. Those days when you used to come home to a drunk father and your brother MIA for another night and you used to watch old Peter Pan vids on your stolen ECHOplayer. Those day when you tripped in front of a street sweeper, effectively nearly wiping your legs clean off your body. The days Gamzee cried next to your bed for weeks because he wasn't there to protect his friend. The day you made a pair of robotic ones in your run down garage with the help your brother's boyfriend because you hated the looks you get in a wheelchair. The days Gamzee and his brother both sleep under a bridge when his father brings home more hookers. The days you and Gamzee started to make Tinkerbull with spare rover parts from the scrap yard. The day he first kissed you. The day when a vengeful ex sawed your arm off because she wanted you to be more like her and make you 'stronger'.

The day Gamzee found out about that and nearly killed her, and four other people included. The day he was sent to a Hyperion 'Correctional Facility'. The day you first tested out Tinkerbull out in the bulk of the place with the sole hope of getting Gamzee out, only to find out that he nearly got himself out halfway. The day you two stole away on a shuttle to Pandora. The day you two became Vault Hunters.

Nether of you were thinking straight that last day.

"Yeah," you say, brushing his knuckles with your thumb softly, "All, the time." You lean in to kiss him, aiming to quell those evil thoughts no doubt already forming in his head.

Time is a funny thing. One minute you're gently kissing him like he's the most fragile thing in the universe, the next he's under you, naked as the day he was born, with you only halfway undressed, much to his dismay. You reach under the bed to fumble at the assorted bottles of flavored lube, courtesy of Roxi. It's always an adventure going through them. There're usually always a few new flavors every time you stay here.

"Let's see, what we have here, today, shall we?" You pull out six bottles (really? That's a little much, even for you two) of the slick and stand them up comically on Gamzee's chest, who shivered visibly at the cold bottles, but chuckles at the numerous flavors of lube lined up in front, and top, of him. His eyes narrow at the first bottle.

"Pumpkin? What the motherfuck? Who wants their dick to up and smell like that shit?"

You absentmindedly massage the inside of Gamzee's thighs as you toss aside the pumpkin flavored bottle. You pick up another, eyeing it farcically, "'Cotton Candy'?" your nose crinkles as you take a whiff of the candy scented gel.

"Hell naw, if you up and smell like sugar, I ain't never gonna motherfuckin' get off ya. Next." Toss.

"PepsiCola? What they, can't choose one?" Toss.

"Rosemary? Ain't that a motherfuckin' plant or sommat? I ain't all up for my ass smellin' like rosemary chicken." Toss.

"Mustard and Ketchup? The, hell? I knew it- our dicks, are concession stand food."

"Why not? Your cock's as salty as motherfuckin' fries anyway." Toss right at Gamzee.

You both opted for the final flavor, PB & J ("If my ass is gonna up and smell like a food, might as well be our favorite motherfuckin' sandwich."), as you let the clear gel run down your good fingers, the strong scent of grape and peanuts filling the small space between you and him. Letting your prosthetic hand drift over his stomach, rubbing in small comforting circles, you let your lubed-up finger tease Gamzee's entrance, before pushing in a finger gently to the knuckle. You still for a minute, watching your partners reaction. Gamzee's breathing is slow and haggard as he shallowly bucks against your hand. His erection is throbbing against his stomach, nested in black curls, already dripping with pre-come. Gamzee looks so beautiful like this. He mewls as you start pumping the digit slowly, deliberately brushing those special bundle of nerves inside him. You add another finger and he hisses at the burn as you scissor them, adding the third when he calms down enough. He starts getting vocal then, making empty threats at you if you don't get started for real.

You deem him ready and pull out of him, Gamzee crooning at the loss. You lean down to kiss his chest before finally ridding yourself of the rest of your clothes, unzipping your pants and quickly discarding them somewhere unspecified. You hiss as the cool air hits you and again when you coat yourself with the pungent scented slick.

You're hard to the point where it heavily aches. Pressing the head to Gamzee's opening, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. This is where you're always nervous. The first time you topped him, you slid in too fast (you blame the legs), and he howled in so much pain it nearly killed you when you heard it. You spent the next ten minutes lamenting Gamzee's ass locked in the bathroom. The clown rolls his hips, edging yourself almost head in. Someone is eager.

"If you don't get this shit motherfuckin' in, Imma steal next jobs pay an' not suck ya for a week!" Well, when he puts it that way…

You slowly slide in, relishing in the tight heat and intense rapture, only stopping when you reach the hilt, waiting for him to adgust. Your metal arm moved to his chest, massaging the area, careful not to press to hard, while your lubed-slicked good hand reaches Gamzee's neglected cock, slowly pumping to your breathing. The Subjugglator's already a moaning, writhing mess, even without you barely moving. Slowly you pull out, dragging out a moan from your partner as you go. When you snap your hips back in place with a grunt, his breath hitches and you already lose yourself, setting a pace that's at first achingly slow developing to something deep and rough. Teasing is only good when there's a point behind it.

"Messiah's Tav! Taavbro Tav, Tav, motherfuck Tavros!" You've long decided that's the best things to ever come out of his mouth.

Gamzee's rolling his hips to meet with yours and you grip him tighter, pumping him faster and thrusting quicker. You're only partially worried your leg's will hurt him. You let your prosthetic limb grope everywhere it can, his sides his hips, his legs, and finally his hand, gripping tightly, like an anchor. His legs hook at your back and he's thrusting harder against you. You twist his hips to ram in even harder and Gamzee brings you close with his free arm, chanting your name like a prayer. Your mouth was moving too against the skin of his neck, but you don't think you said anything. If you did, Gamzee drowned them out.

When he finally comes, his lithe frame arches off the bed with a cry that shook the walls around you as he shoots ribbons of white across his chest. His muscles clench around your length and you groan, giving a couple of more thrusts before finally finishing inside of him, bucking uncontrollably. "Fuck, Gamzee-!"

Your legs gave out from under you and you land on top of Gamzee's oversensitive body, you both struggling to catch your breath. Pretty soon, your partner grunts under you and you weakly wiggle to the spot next to him, laying on your side and sliding your good arm across his waist. The room smells like sex and sweat, more so than when you both first got here, and small traces of peanut butter and jelly. It seemed more comfortable now then it did before.

Gamzee kisses the underside of your jaw, and lets out a content sigh. "Mmm… What's on the motherfuckin' to do list for the morrow?"

Random, but whatever. You clumsily reach over with your prosthetic, finding your forgotten pants to pull out your ECHOdevice, reading the organized list of missions you planned the night before. "Um, bullymongs." You cough, attempting to get rid of the grind in your voice. It's not as sexy on you as it is on Gam. "In Three Horns Divide again… Then more bandits, in-"

"Bonerfarts?" He laughs.

"_Bullymongs."_

"Fine, fine." He snuggles up closer beside you, his breath ghosting over your collarbones as sleep slowly pulls you both in. "Ain't no rest for the wicked, eh bro?"

You laugh, because oh fuck no. But you're okay with that.

The next day you both end up roughly dry humping each other in the middle of a heavily populated bullymong nest. Just another day in the lives of two professional Vault Hunters.


End file.
